


Wellbelove

by onotherflights



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Banter, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Found Family, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 01:19:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16609115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onotherflights/pseuds/onotherflights
Summary: Simon Snow may have an infamous stage name, but it's still his girlfriend's name in lights at every show. Well, ex-girlfriend. His love life, or lack thereof, is the least of his problems when he has an all-knowing tour family, fans who think they know all about him, and the bandmate most likely to be plotting his death sleeping in the bunk across from him every night.{Alternatively, Simon and company are in a band, but that's not the band's name and there's no magical world but there's still magic if you know where to look.}





	Wellbelove

**Author's Note:**

> Well, well, well, look at me. Back at it again with another band/musician au. I don't know why i'm doing this to myself but I can promise that this au is 99% squeakier and cleaner than my last. If you don't know what i'm talking about, don't ask and just enjoy this fluffy goodness.

“Snow, wake your sorry arse up before I wake it up for you, we’re late.”

I groan into the warmth of my pillow and turn my head away from the offending noise. Of course, ignoring him does nothing. He waits all of five seconds before, seeing I have no intention of moving, grabbing the duvet and flinging it off of me. 

The cold air hits me like the steel of a knife and I curl in on myself protectively. 

“Bugger off,” I mumble, turning my back to him. 

I can’t see him, but I can picture him standing there, hands on his hips, and counting to ten under his breath.

“That’s it,” he says with a tone of finality, “I’m sending in reinforcements.” 

“I don’t care,” I grumble and pull the sheet that I’d kicked to the end of the bed over me. For a few blissful moments, it’s silent. 

Then I hear the  _ clomp clomp clomp _ of combat boots, and I don’t need to open my eyes to see that they’re yellow and are being worn by our drummer.

Penelope has been my closest friend since childhood, and in the LA scene that means we’ve been friends for like, ever. She knows me better than anyone else in the band, even. . . Well, you know. 

“Simon Oliver Salisbury, get out of this bed now,” she yells out like a war cry as she jumps onto my hotel bed, dirty boots and all. The use of my full legal name is jarring, ten points to Bunce. 

When that doesn’t work, she switches to a new tactic, unlike  _ some _ annoying prick who’s still standing by my bedside, probably with his arms still crossed over his chest. 

“Si,” she says gently, and sits down next to me. She strokes through my hair, and I could fall back asleep just like that. “Why don’t you want to get up?” 

“I don’t want to see her,” I admit softly. 

Penelope sighs, but she’s still stroking my hair, so I think I’m safe. Maybe she feels sorry for me. Then she continues in that same gentle voice, and that’s the scariest part of all.

“Alright, we’re not getting anywhere. Get him in the shower, Baz.”

My eyes shoot open but before I can move, he’s grabbing me under the arms and pulling me up. I try to kick, but it’s useless. He may be slim, but Baz’s arms are strong enough to hold me for the ten feet it takes to get to the shower. 

I curse his name the whole time, coming up with truly creative insults that someone should really write down for future use. He plops me into the shower and turns the tap, cold water shooting out at me before it warms. He shuts the glass door and smirks as he watches me, probably looking like a wet dog, my jumper and pants still on. 

“Good morning, Simon Snow.” 

I give a single finger salute and surrender, stripping out of my sopping clothes as he leaves. 

Guess my time of feeling sorry for myself is officially over. It was a good three days, at least.

  
  


My room is empty when I get out of the shower but my suitcase is packed and on my bed. I sigh, resigned, because there’s nowhere else to go and it’s not like i’m going to miss breakfast. 

I put on my sunglasses and my brown leather jacket and head to the elevator, then down to the lobby. 

They’re already in the breakfast room when I get there, chatting and scarfing down the continental breakfast. Except for Baz, who is staring at his phone, and Agatha. She’s on her phone talking to someone and  _ smiling _ , and decidedly not looking my way. 

Baz, however, can apparently see me without even looking up. 

“Take off those sunglasses, you look like a dolt.”

“And you’re a dick,” I quip, reaching over to steal the apple that’s sitting untouched on his tray. I take a bite and sit between Micah and Penny because that seems like the safest bet. 

“Morning Si,” Micah greets me kindly, leaning back in his chair with one arm around his girlfriend. All of us were a pretty useless bunch off-stage, but Micah is different. He’s the best of us, all things considered. That's why he's a roadie. They get into heaven first, according to Ebb. 

 

The morning resumes with its usual underlying tension and everyone ultimately survives breakfast. If I was late for breakfast, Baz doesn’t seem surprised when his own aunt is almost late for the entire press day. Fiona shows up just before we get into the car, holding her phone with her shoulder and pulling her hair up into a messy bun. Fi’s a hot mess but she’s the best manager we could ask for. Our driver Nic follows behind with his hands in his pockets, whistling. I suppress a smirk. We all know they have a thing going on the side, but we all let them think they’re being coy. 

Agatha happens to be standing next to me and sees the same small spectacle. She does that little giggle under her breath that drives me mad… or it used to. She looks over at me, poised to make a comment, but it catches in her throat. I wish things weren’t like this. I wish we had never broken up the first time, much less the last time. I wish that even though we’re done, we could still be friends. It’s hard enough to see her every day and know it’s still too soon to talk to her like we don’t have a history. In all the songs I’ve written about her, we get some version of a happy ending, even if it was just that one night. 

I wish I could tell her all of this, instead of it living in my head. 

She walks away, and I wish for death. 

“Come along, Snow.” 

Baz puts an arm around my shoulder, and after a long moment I shrug it off. Still, I walk by his side as we make our way out of the hotel. The show must go on as they say. Whoever they are. 

If there’s one good thing to come of this, it’s that historically speaking the album will do well on the charts if it’s about falling in or out of love. 

It was only a matter of time before we had a breakup album. 

 

 


End file.
